Virago
by verfens
Summary: The world is very different when the nations are mostly women. Nyotalia Universe- not just genderslide. Multiple Pairings. Chapter 4: Good Evening, Goodnight; Character: Germany (Monika Beilschmidt).
1. I Feel Pretty

Chapter 1: I Feel Pretty  
>Character: Prussia (Julia {Julchen} Beilschmidt)<p>

_"To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don't need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself."_

**- Thich Nhat Hanh**

XXXXX

Ever since she could remember, she had always been told that she had to act like a man. The reasons why were drilled in her head like a mantra.

Men were stronger.

Men were better.

Men were the standard.

Women like herself had to be like them if they were to be anything in life.

Julchen was a wild and headstrong girl. Her hair was white, and short, shorter than some of her male companions. Her eyes were hard, filled with her fire to be something in the world. Dual colored, blue on top, and red on bottom. Her cloak was white, like her skin, smooth and freckled all over, except for her face, face clear like creamy milk.

Save for one scar on her cheek from her mother.

Her official name was Teutonic Knights. But though she took on the name Julia, her boss told her she was Julchen.

She was told all the time by the nuns that it was a shame she was a knight. She was a beautiful girl.

She was told all the time by the knights that it was glorious to serve God with her whole being. She was good with the sword.

She had been alone most of her young life. It was punctuated by battles, back when she was still Teuton. But now she had Daniel. Or Hungary, as he called himself. More than him, she had Austria and Switzerland. Annalise, unlike her, had embraced her femininity. Heidi was a bit harder to get to know, but was close to Annalise.

Julchen didn't know if they knew she was a girl, but she didn't mind. Better that they assumed she was a man.

Rome's children were girls.

So were the other youth the powerful woman had protected.

Then there were the Eastern nations. Barbarians. But they too were girls.

It seemed that even though they, the representations of the world of man, were women, women were still the inferior.

Julchen didn't understand.

She watched with longing at a nobles daughter, dressed in finery. She wanted so badly to be like that. Allowed to express how she felt on the inside. She was a woman through and through. She wanted to show the world how pretty she was. Show Eli how she could be girly too.

But those feelings were to be suppressed. She was to defend her name, be a mighty power. And the way they said she could do that was to be a man.

She sighed again, in deep despair at her current situation, before she turned her attention back to her lessons in sword fighting.

XXXXX

When she was a teenager, she couldn't hide it any longer. Her womanhood came with shame instead of pride.

Daniel looked at her oddly as she came upon him at a conference of nations. He gave her a sideways look. "Julch?" He tilted his head, and she pursed her lips, biting one of them, before speaking.

Her voice was high and lilted. "Ja?" She blushed horribly. Her priests outfit was meant to hide her womanly figure, but as she put a hand on her hip while she jutted it out, it revealed her narrow waistline and wider hips. Her slightly hourglass shape gave her away for good.

"Y-You're..." He seemed unable to come up with the word for it.

"Ja?!" She said in a higher pitch, embarrassed and showing it clearly. Another sign of weakness.

"A woman." He said, confused. "You never told me. I always assumed you were a man. Your hair's so short." Something seemed to come to him. "You were even a knight!" He exclaimed after the pause.

"And why's that strange?" She glared at him, hands on her hips as she leaned forward, to get in his face. "It's a man's world. I want to be a part of that. And _that _means abandoning the fairer sex."

Annalise was dressed in finery. She gaped at Julchen's fair features, since as she grew into them, it was hard to deny the facts. She was too womanly. Too fair.

The other nations of Europe were completely blindsided by this revelation. France was aghast at what she had done to her hair. Spain frowned at her wearing trousers. Russia disapproved of her commanding tone.

Like always, she was the outsider.

Too womanly to fit in to the mans world, too manly to fit in with her own kind, dominated by women.

She longed to be like her kind. Dress in pretty things, wear the perfumes and makeup and finery. But she couldn't. She had to listen to her bosses wishes about her life.

Julchen left in a hurry, tears in her eyes.

Why couldn't she feel pretty any longer?

XXXXX

By the time she had grown into her features, she had given up on fitting in, on feeling pretty. She had accepted her uphill battle to being accepted.

The year was 1701. It was the year she became a nation.

As she presented herself to her new boss, she smiled, shaking his hand instead of curtsying.

"I cannot believe my nation is a woman." He said, indignant.

"To be perfectly honest, sir, most of us are." She said, scoffing. "All the great nations of Europe? Women."

She was slapped. "You do not speak to a man like that."

"If you would let me explain." She held her hand up the next time he went to slap her, calling upon some ancient magic to force him to obey her. "That alone should prove I'm your nation." She said, powerful. "You _will_ **not** slap me. I am older than any man on earth, and much of my own kind. I will _not _be hit by a mere human, who lives in but the blink of the eye of a nation!" She sat down, releasing him as she folded her hands in her lap. "Now." She gestured him to sit down. "We talk."

XXXXX

Her relationship with the man who declared her a true nation didn't improve in the weeks that followed.

Prussia was walking through the forest, hunting in Eastern Europe. She heard a grunt, and thought it sounded a lot like...

She went over to where she was hearing it come from, and came upon a clearing.

It was him. She laughed her ugly laugh, snorting loudly. "Hungary!" She said, eyes brightening. "It's been awhile! What the fuck happened to you?"

Hungary looked up, eyes dulled, and she immediately was quieted. He grunted again.

"Are you alright?" She asked, worried about her old crush.

"No. I just got my ass handed to me." He smiled slightly. As he straightened, she caught a glimpse of his...

Glorious chest.

Oh Lord and Savior, that was a heavenly sight. She blushed furiously, face beet red.

"Well, I was declared a nation!" She said, trying to brush it off. "I'm officially Kingdom of Prussia. Prussia for short."

"Weren't you Prussia before now?" He said, raising an eyebrow.

"Ja, but.." She lost some of her steam. "It's my _real _name now. _And _I'm a nation again."

He grunted loudly, his head falling as he lost his grip on his sword. Her eyes widened in worry.

"Man, you really got fucked up." She said, gruffly.

"Yeah..." He agreed, obviously in pain. He was bleeding pretty badly... but the only bandages she had were...

Well. There was a time and place for everything. Losing those last traces of her previous self might do her some good.

Julchen turned, rustling around in her oversized clothes, while he stared at her, silently questioning what she was doing.

She turned around, breasts pale and small, but well shaped. Her nipples were perked in the cold breeze.

Hungary's mouth went agape, while she tossed him the bandages. "Here." She muttered, blushing even more as she covered herself again. "That should be plenty of...bandages." Her voice wavered loudly.

Prussia ran off, covering her breasts with her hands over her cloak.

In his eyes, Julchen had seen it.

Lust.

She had to admit, it felt...kind of good. Well, truly it should be creepy, but it was nice to know she, demon-like in appearance, was desirable.

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As she grew in power, Julchen grew more confident in herself. She was starting to grow out her hair. She had exchanged trousers for a skirt. Still, dresses were out of the question. Too bulky, too unwieldy.

She was a warring nation.

No time to be pretty.

Other nations approved of this change, slight as it was.

She made friends in what had once been unquestionable acquaintances, if not outright enemies.

France played with her mid-length hair, barely reaching her shoulders. "You know, darling, it will be absolutely _beautiful _once it's long enough to put up." She smiled kindly at her.

"So you were _never _allowed to display your femininity?" Spain asked, and Prussia shook her head.

"My boss always told me to pretend I was a boy. But Fritz is a lot better than any of them! He's an Enlightened leader, to be sure." She sighed, relieved to get some of this off her chest.

"That must have been horrible!" France exclaimed. "We were always told to put our bosses in their place! But your...well. Your mother didn't understand, mon ami."

"I know. Albinism at _that_ time definitely put me in an interesting place." Julchen looked at her face in the mirror.

"But we understand now, amiga." Spain smiled brightly. "Although, during medieval times, you would have been sought after like Helena of Troy had you been allowed to be a woman!"

Julchen laughed. "Me?" She snorted. "Never. I'm too manly." She flexed her very well toned muscles. "And I'd tell them to get lost." She boasted.

But that really wasn't how she felt at all. She said that, but really?

Like...Helena? Was she that attractive?

"Hola, amiga, you still in there?" Spain was joking, and Julchen came to attention.

France had finished french braiding her hair. She now had a very pretty ring made of a braid around her head. She smiled softy as she looked upon herself in the mirror.

"Like what you see?" Francine blew her a kiss. "You're so cute." The woman winked, and she blushed heavily, pursing her lips.

"Now for make up!" Spain said excitedly, and the two friends giggled at the surprised look of their new friend.

"What?! I didn't sign up for that!" She exclaimed, but Spain and France only shared knowing looks as she tried to get away. "Shit." She muttered, giving in as they moved closer to her.

XXXXX

Fighting against her old friend was a pleasure. She was kicking Annalise's prissy ass, in a fight that felt like to the death.

This was the war of Austrian Succession.

That was when he came.

They both looked to their right, and there he was.

Hungary.

Julchen looked surprised, Annalise, relieved.

Hungary attacked the Prussian army with fervor, kicking the albino's worn armies ass.

She was kicked out, but got to keep some of the territory she had won.

Later, she cried softly into her pillow, unable to believe it...

Daniel...Hungary had fought for Austria. She had seen him make his choice. And he chose a "proper" woman.

Spain had been married to Austria. She told Julchen that it had been horrible being married to such a wench.

So why did he chose her? "Why?" She cried, looking down at her mannish hands.

No wonder, she thought with self-loathing.

Prussia remembered his confusion, his outrage at his discovery she was a woman.

She was a tomboy, she tried to tell herself. She didn't need the opinion of a man to validate her. She was close enough to a man. But, she longed for Hungary to look at her the way he looked at Austria- With love, more than lust. She wished for him to tell her she was pretty, childish though it was.

If she was honest with herself, she wanted nothing more to be able to play dress up with France and Spain once again.

But time for that had passed.

Revolution was in the air.

XXXXX

"Thanks again for helping me!" Two nations were walking along a battlefield, victorious against England- one youthful, the other battered by time.

"It's no problem!" Julchen laughed. "America, I look forward to you being something big in the world!"

America, a bright young thing who had eyes bigger than her stomach, had taken on the colossal challenge of beating England in a battle for freedom.

One day, Prussia walked in on America binding her chest. She snorted, but on the inside, saw herself in young Emily.

"What are you doing? You have nothing to hide!" Emily blushed furiously.

"W-What do you know?" Emily yelled at her, embarrassed.

"I actually know quite a lot. Besides, binding like that can break your ribs and worse. It's really impractical, actually." Julchen sat on a cot, gesturing Emily to sit next to her.

"How do you know that?" America asked softly, looking down at the bindings in her hands.

"Because I bound myself for hundreds of years." She admitted. "My boss wanted me to be a man so badly he made me pretend I was."

America's eyes went wide.

"What? But you're so...Beautiful..." America said, dumbstruck.

Julchen laughed her ugly laugh. "Hardly." She waved a hand. The cot creaked beneath them.

"To be honest, most of Europe doesn't like me. I'm not a man, but in their eyes, I'm no woman either. I don't really fit in well."

Emily huffed. "You're a wonderful woman, Julia!" The Prussian looked over to her, eyes softening. The small wrinkles around them crinkled as she smiled widely.

"You stinker. I told you to call me Julchen."

"But you said you were Julia!" Emily said playfully. "A pretty name for a pretty woman."

"Ja, but...no one calls me that." Julchen's frame drooped. "I'm always Julchen."

"I'll always call you Julia, then!" The 12 year old grinned brightly. "Promise! You don't have to hide yourself any longer!"

"Then you don't either, missy." Prussia took the bindings, throwing them away from America, and took the teenager out for drinks.

The chains that bound her were gone now. She didn't want anyone else to experience them, ever again.

XXXXX

When her little sister, Holy Rome, died, it came as both as a relief and as a tragedy. That little girl suffered so long. She too was made to be a man.

She would have understood Prussia, understood Julia's pain.

Julchen had never known Holy Rome as well as she should have. Her sisters had never let her too close.

Demon.

Queer.

She was ashamed that she looked the way she did.

She was ashamed she was a woman.

She was present when it occurred, as was Annalise.

Both were crying out for France to stop as the revolution-crazed woman carried out the deed under order of her boss, Napoleon.

Julchen's sword was taken by France, and the woman scoffed at Prussia, making her feel like dirt.

"You're not even a real woman. You're nothing but a demon. There is no place for you in this world."

Tears soaked a pale face as the demon curled up on the floor, battered and bloody.

France raised her sword.

Julchen screamed when it happened.

Right through the heart.

And she died.

But she couldn't.

Francine twisted the sword as she removed it.

France had laid her low, left her soaking in a pool of her own blood, before Julchen started coughing it up.

Austria looked at her in horror, before violet eyes turned to France, watching her murderously.

France left them both, leaving their territory victorious.

Only England, headstrong and not officially part of Europe was left to fight her.

And fight her she would, Prussia was sure.

Austria took her hand delicately, shaking her head as the woman stood with determination, the hole in her chest gaping. It represented everything she had lost in life.

"Let's go." Prussia's voice was deadened. She let down her hair, and the wild white hair was unkempt, but she convinced herself she didn't care.

It was raining, and her hair was quickly soaked. She ripped her skirt open, it was too long. She had to trade it out for pants again. Much more useful, if she thought of it.

"Prussia..." Austria said, sympathetically. "It's alright...I'm sure...Holy Rome will wake up..."

"Shut up." Julchen tore her hand out of Annalise's, fire in her eyes. "Shut up! I never got the chance to even know her! And you played a part of that! The only sister who didn't despise me!" Her voice cracked loudly, and she fell to her knees as she sobbed. "And she's not going to wake up. She would have already. She was too frail. Always too frail. Too small. Too young." She screamed into the sky. "I never knew her. Never got to say hello, and now, will never be able to say goodbye."

Austria stared at her. She got down on her knees, muddying her dress. "I'm sorry, Julchen." She apologized, something she never did. "I'm sorry."

"She was my friend, and she killed Holy Rome!" Prussia screamed. "She was my _friend_!"

"And we'll make her pay." Austria swore, making Prussia stand up. "We'll make her pay. I promise, Julch." She smiled, using her old nickname for her long time enemy, and old friend. "We'll make her pay."

On that day, coated in her blood and the blood of countless others, was the day she was least beautiful.

This was her at her worst, at her ugliest.

But she vowed she'd make France pay for this.

XXXXX

And pay France did. At the Congress of Vienna, England, Russia, Austria, and Prussia made her pay for her sins. Prussia turned her head away from her sad once friend. No more kindness between them. Only resentment and remorse.

The days where France could do Prussia's hair and make up were gone.

Now she had to learn to do it herself. It was the 19th century, after all. Times were changing fast.

She snuck into her estate one day unnoticed. Well, Austria's house, that was. She owned no gowns of her own, and had to wear something to the ball of nations that was coming up. She had no idea what her size was, what she would need. And she was certainly not asking her male boss to take her dress shopping. She scoffed at the thought.

When she got to her bedroom, she gaped at how...plain it was.

For all Annalise dressed in pretty clothes, she didn't spend lavish amounts on her room.

She was after all, a frugal woman.

But she did have a very fine wardrobe.

Julchen allowed herself to picture herself in one of them. She had white hair now, she'd be able to do a handsome up-do, or perhaps, put it into a wig. She'd wear ivory and pearls, or perhaps would put some color onto her pale figure. She had never been able to play around with jewelry, and with the female Holhenzollern's, had never acted interested in it.

But oh she was. How she was very interested in it.

She opened up the wardrobe, and gasped when she saw the complexity of the female dress. There was underlayers, overlayers, and gowns galore.

Problem was, she had no idea how to put anything on. She had never been able to get the courage to ask how to wear a corset.

...It couldn't be that much different from binding, could it?

But of course it was.

Naturally, when she heard the front door open, she was crying tears of frustration, petticoats and gowns and hoops everywhere, trying to make the corset fit on her.

But her boobs were too small to fit. Austria simply had a bigger rack than she did. She snuck out the window, Annalise's neat and tidy wardrobe now a complete mess.

XXXXX

As the days to the ball grew closer, she found herself running out of options. She constructed battle plans with Bismarck, one of her two bosses, but also really wanted to make a statement at the upcoming ball. It was only a few months away now. The battle between her and Austria was to be right before it, and she was to be victorious, and then announce her presence with authority at the Conference of Europe.

Gone were the days of cooperation. Now it was seeing who would take control of the German states. Austria had been knocked off her high horse in Central Europe.

And Prussia stole the crown in the form of winning the Austria-Prussian war.

She was visiting Holy Rome's memorial one day, only weeks now before the ball, the nations memorial a garden of flowers in a forest clearing, when she saw her.

Dressed in a soft white gown, wandering around the flowers, playing with a small rabbit, was a baby nation. Prussia didn't move, so as not to startle her.

She had beautiful blonde hair, like Holy Rome had. Julchen just knew she was a girl.

This was Germany.

"Germany..." The woman whispered, making the nation turn to her. Blank blue eyes stared back. She laughed weakly. "I did it. I made a nation. Or, I will." She corrected with another lighthearted laugh.

Germany only nodded, acknowledging her name. She didn't speak. She was obviously brand new. She couldn't do anything on her own yet.

"I'll call you...Monika." She picked the child up, something bright filling her heart- Filling the gap that France had stabbed in her. Germany grabbed onto her with small, delicate hands.

She would make Germany stronger than Holy Rome. That she promised the tiny nation who was currently falling asleep in her arms. Julchen kissed the small girl.

"I'll take care of you, I promise."

XXXXX

And she gave Germany everything that Julchen never had as a girl. She would be allowed to express herself however she wanted, Julchen was positive of that.

Julchen dressed her up in all the pretty dresses that she could get her hands on. Bismarck was confused by Prussia's sudden change in behavior, but accepted it.

Louise, the Princess of Prussia and Grand Duchess of Baden, found little Monika to be the most adorable thing in the world- despite her and her husbands quarrel with Bismarck.

This was Prussia's chance to break the ice with Louise.

"Hey..." She mumbled, embarrassed to ask. "I was wondering. I don't particularly want to go to the ball wearing my war outfit, as Bismarck so insists..." And Louise had a sly smile slowly growing on her face.

"Oh?" She asked, curious.

"So I was thinking." Her voice, normally commanding and powerful, was getting smaller and smaller as she spoke. "That... you could help me..."

"That I could help my nation with what?" She had Louise's full attention now, for sure. Prussia was meek, and this was extremely unusual for her.

"With..." She was barely at a whisper now. "With finding a dress!" She spat the end out, blushing horribly.

Louise laughed lightly. "Of course I'll help you!" She said, delighted. "I wondered when you were going to show any interest in me!"

Julchen gave her a helpless stare, and Louise, princess of her country, took her hand.

"Let's go make you a dress!"

She took Prussia to a tailor, where the woman was measured, and was embarrassed when she heard her meager measurements. She would have things custom made for her, since her frame was so small, her body muscular, and her chest not much to brag about.

Louise took her to her estate, in Baden, and taught her the etiquette of dresses, which Prussia had no knowledge of. She insisted on Julchen asking her father for jewelry, and to pay for this excursion. She told her exactly what to say to get Louise's father to do it- tell him that it was a matter of pleasing Louise, his favorite child.

He gave in quite quickly, and Prussia soon had a beautiful blue and white dress. It was silk and taffeta, and as she had one of the maids of the house of Holhenzollern dress her in it, she felt so pretty.

Julchen had her hair put up in a pretty up-do, and though it was odd, she felt as though she finally fit in.

She finally could go and present herself as a woman.

The albino looked at herself in the mirror, and smiled brightly. Little Monika was staring at her while the maid dressed her as well. She would be in a sweet light blue dress, while Prussia's was a pronounced Prussian blue dress.

"Germany, are you ready?" She smiled at her, and picked up the child as she donned her traveling cloak delicately over her bare shoulders.

"Yes, Prussia." She smiled slightly, eyes still blank.

They got into the carriage, and headed to the Conference of Europe, a ball to celebrate and to be with their own kind. Julchen held Monika in her arms, carrying her delicately as she held her head high.

She felt pretty, and truly felt it for the first time in her life.

As she walked into the conference, no nation recognized her at first.

She walked in proudly, and many nations gasped when they saw Germany in her arms, her precious little Monika.

They knew now she was powerful, but also, beautiful.

That was when Julchen realized- you didn't have to choose. You could be both mighty and pretty.

Prussia danced the simple steps her partner, a German Prince, could teach her.

She felt so beautiful right then, stars overhead, shining bright in her eyes, and in her heart.

XXXXX

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! I'll probably write more of Julchen's life as time goes on, but this is actually a story about _the entire Nyotalia universe. _I plan to include every female version of male characters that we have now, including repeats of characters as time goes on!

Essentially, this will be a bunch of connected short stories from the perspectives of different Nyotalia nations, under the guideline that they have their own separate universe. I'm not creative enough to come up with new history, so it will be based around modern world history.

I'll really get back to updating my other stuff later, but I'm working on it! College is rough, man.

Please leave a review! It really does keep me going and wanting to write!

Also, if you guys have any strong headcanons you'd like to see in the fanfic, I'd love to hear them!


	2. Defiance

"Maybe it frightened them, to admit that a woman could be the master of her fate."

**-Nenia Campbell, Black Beast**

Chapter 2: Defiance  
>Character: America (Emily Jones)<p>

XXXXX

Men are horrible, terrible creatures.

This was Emily's mantra as she was doing stupid-ass paperwork for the massive idiot known as her boss. Ronald Reagan was really problematic, and she was stuck with him for at least 4 years, if not 8. Idiot was popular in her people's eyes.

But, sitting at the secretary's desk, instead of her damn office, she felt a deep hatred growing within her. He was definitely anti-woman. Anti-Emily. He hated that his nation was a woman. He actually told her that she wouldn't be doing anything in the White House any longer. She told him that she was required. He replied that she could be a secretary for a lower level official. Emily fudged a little bit, saying that she had to be _his_ secretary if she was to be secretary.

Well, it had worked. That was good enough for now. But now, she had to wear a damn uniform. Reagan had said her chosen clothes were too _risqué_ for a secretary. Oh, how her very blood boiled. How dare he! How _dare he! _She, _America_, was a damn nation!

She was now in a knee-length pencil skirt, a stupid frilly blouse, and her short hair was put into a small bun. Holy fuck. She actually felt like a secretary in this.

She couldn't live like this. For real though.

XXXXX

It began as small things. Just little, minuscule things that would piss him off. For example, wearing a tacky piece of jewelry around her neck with a crude phrase on it. Wearing a tie with a nice shirt instead of a blouse.

Then it grew into larger things.

Emily blasting Blondie at her desk, on a big ass stereo. Growing more bold, she chose more risqué music. More punk.

She shaved her head one day, coming in like that and seeing his eyes basically pop out of his skull.

At UN meetings, she would go wearing a man's suit. That really pissed him off.

She dyed her hair bright fucking pink when it grew back. Not her tips, not highlights. The whole shebang was pink. Not light pink either. Hot, magenta, annoying, demanding they recognize her presence.

Then, she got a perm. Her hair was now a giant fluff ball, and it was worth it for her to hear him tell her to shave it off again. "I'd rather not." She said flippantly. "Yanno, I'm only bound to you in terms of things like….hmm….actual politics?" That really pissed him off.

She ended up going out to protest recent women's rights infringements- such as his slashing of funding for government investigation of sexual discrimination. It was basically turning a blind eye to all those disgusting men who took advantage of women's place in the workplace and then, worse, winked and shook those men's head. Women's encounters of discrimination and harassment was only going up, which was terrible.

America was pissed, and she was completely rebelling.

She was defiant to her boss as much as she could. She was testing her limits as to her obedience.

XXXXX

Holy fuck, Reagan was dumb. She was reading a report he was writing on the Strategic Defense Initiative. Or the Star Wars Defense.

Really? A fucking FORCE FIELD that would somehow magically block all the nukes Russia could fire at her?

"But Reagan, science!" America muttered to herself, filing her nails. It was terrible. She was so incredibly amazed that one man could be so dumb.

What was worse was that, was that Gorbachev and Russia were taking him _completely seriously._

Reagan was the one standing in front of nuclear disarmament.

It was terrible.

She went to the meeting of the UN, only to have to stay quiet while Russia urged her to convince Reagan to give up his idea.

Oh. If only. Emily smiled, telling her she would try.

Russia looked tired, smiling at her. America nodded, and left the meeting.

She didn't know what was to happen within a year.

XXXXX

The day had come. The day she was seeing the fucker leave office. She had planned this day for a long time. She had invited him to a "mandatory event" for her bosses as they left her. Oh. Yes.

She was _rocking _that perm she had gotten, wearing full on dancewear, a bow tie, and a sequined top.

Reagan gave her the most confused look as the dramatic piano introduction from Gloria Gaynor's "I will survive" started to play.

She started to dance around in her roller skates, giving him looks here and there as she _rocked _right in front of him, and the man she recognized as her new problem, George H. W. Bush.

She kept rocking it, glaring her now ex-boss down as the lyrics sang her sentiments.

"Go on now, go, walk out that door!" She went over to him, pushing his stupid ass away. "Just turn around now‚ cause you're not welcome any more." She took her hair out of the bun he always insisted on her wearing, the perm making her hair bounce around. "Weren't you the one who tried to hurt (crush) me with goodbye? Did I crumble? Did I lay down and die?"

She did a full turn on her roller skates.

"Oh no, not I! I will survive! Oh and as long as I know how to love I know I stay alive. I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give. And I'll survive! I will survive! Hey Hey!" She kept dancing until the song stopped, and then gave him a superior look.

"I know you tried hard to make me meaningless, Reagan. But I hope you know that you failed. And you have demonstrated to your successor what he'll have to deal with." She flippantly turned her back on them, stalking off in triumph, the song "Eye of the Tiger" starting to play in the background.

"What the fuck is wrong with our nation?" Bush said in disgust.

XXXXX

As Republicans in Congress driveled on about their anti-woman policies, Emily simply stared them down. Basically every single one of them had voted against equal pay for equal work.

Emily was disgusted. Their own _nation_ was a woman.

Did they think _she_ didn't deserve as much pay as a male nation!?

She made an anonymous call to the head of the Republican party. Her voice was put through the Anonymous voice box. "I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my rights go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will destroy you."

And with that, she hung up.

Men are horrible, terrible creatures, she thought to herself in satisfaction.

Thank god she wasn't one of them!

Thank God she could defy them.

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A/N: Alright! Please leave a review! I love to hear feedback!


	3. Independence

Chapter 3: Independence  
>Character: England (Rose Kirkland)<p>

_"Men kick friendship around like a football but it doesn't seem to break. Women treat it like glass and it goes to pieces."_

**- Anne Morrow Lindbergh**

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They were at dinner when she suggested it first- that accursed phrase.

It had been a long voyage, taking several months to make it back to her colony, and she had come home only to see her darling girl had grown up. Rose Kirkland, the personification of England, nearly dropped her teacup. But she was a proper woman.

"I…I want to be independent!" Emily said suddenly. Rose stared at her, before she laughed softly.

"You simply must be joking, Emily dear." England said, voice lofty. "There's no way you would last as a nation. You know nothing of politics." She took another sip of her tea, trying desperately to shield how _nervous _she was. No way in hell was Emily wanting to break free! Did she detest England that much?

"I know enough to know my people don't like you all that much anymore." She mumbled, and the teacup broke in Rose's hand.

"_Your _people?" She said, voice edging on anger, fury being one of her ugly features. "You mean, _my _people? They are colonists. _My _colonists." She corrected sharply, huffing in her finery. Emily winced, looking down at her food.

"Yes Ma'am." She said, sighing, before England gestured haughtily to her broken cup, and staining dress. Emily got up, shoulders drooping as she wiped crumbs off her plain brown dress and beige apron. Her hair was up and out of the way, neat and crisp.

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Where England thought she had seen the end, had only been the beginning.

Emily was back at home, embroidering, where she had left her last on her visit to some…unsavory characters. Rose, in contrast was standing to the side in a conservative dress, ruffles coming off her back and down to the ground, but otherwise, relatively form fitting. Her soldiers, led by noble Captain Thomas Preston, were walking with her, with the people shouting at them and her, jeering and using awful language.

Why Emily identified with these people was beyond England.

It was March 5, 1770.

The Twenty-Ninth Regiment was coming to the relief of the Eighth on duty at the Customs House on King Street.

Captain Preston was unable to disperse the crowd and as they chanted and screamed at her troops.

"Fire and be damned!" One man was getting up in Rose's face, making her sneer at him.

Preston tried to gain control. "Don't Fire!" He shouted.

Shots went out into the air despite this. The soldiers had opened fire on the crowd.

Alarm went through Rose as she saw a familiar face in the crowd falling to the street. She pushed the soldiers that were at her side away, and told the colonists to move out of her way or be damned, voice growing in anger and alarm and fear, such terrible fear.

No! It couldn't be!

But, despite this, she couldn't deny the blood coming out of her colony. The crowd dispersed as Rose desperately cried out. "Emily, Emily, Emily!" She felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes. She gathered up the girl before she could wake up, running far away from the stares of the people remaining, her soldiers and colonists alike.

There was no doubt that she was dead, hanging in Rose's arms like a doll. Rose prepared herself, guarding her heart from any fear in Emily's eyes, dropping her body to the ground without care.

When the young girl's eyes fluttered open, Rose slapped her _hard. _Voice furious, green eyes poisonous, "How _dare _you!" She exclaimed. "Stupid, misbehaving _child!_ _You _will _march _right home _and not come out of your __**room for a fortnight!**_**" **Her voice had raised 3 octaves in her screaming at Emily.

And fear there was. Her hair had come out of its tight bun, her blue eyes terrified. But she found courage in herself despite the poison dripping off England's whole form.

"I want to be independent, England." Emily's voice was shaky at first, but she found the will to be strong. "And that place will never be home again. You killed them. And you killed me. That place will never again be my home."

England stared, and she could not deny the blood that left her face. "You will go to our estate. Now." Her voice was icy, leaving no room for Emily to argue.

"Fine, England." She growled, shakily getting up onto her feet as England stood over her.

"You will be punished when we arrive back at our estate." Rose finished, trying to remain calm now that her darling girl looked like she was definitely alive, bullet holes stitched up with skin.

Emily left, resolve replaced by fear, and Rose softened when she heard her breathing rate increase with tears as the girl rushed out to undoubtedly attain her horse. She almost reached out for her, but did not.

It was only proper.

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It was only a mild punishment- a figurative slap on the wrist. Emily was sent to bed without dinner, and given more chores in the house. Had she been a mother, she would have undoubtedly done worse. Had she a husband, she would have had the girl beaten. But neither of these things defined Rose Kirkland.

She was Emily's big sister, beyond her owner.

Rose tried to bridge the gap between her and her darling. But the days grew long, and the nights grew cold. She had to go back to England, her true home, eventually.

As she left to board the ship, she brought Emily with her. The girl had grown cold in recent times.

She turned to face her, smiling a little nervously. "My dear, dear girl." She said, simply. "You know I love you, don't you?" She asked, tilting her head to the side, wearing her white powdered wig.

"Yes Ma'am." Emily replied.

When Rose boarded the ship, she tried to convince herself those weren't hollow words.

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In 1772, she and her King heard news that would shake them to the core. One of their naval officers was being pursued for "illegally" seizing goods, after having been attacked by colonists that were out of line. When she saw the name of one of the people who called for his court order, she frowned.

"Emily." England growled, telling her boss she needed to go back over to America. He allowed it, telling her to get his colony in line before he needed to eliminate the threat.

…. Would he kill Emily? Her skin paled, and her breathing went fast as she left the room. She had to calm down and figure this out.

When Rose arrived at her colony, she came upon a scene. Duddington could name his attackers, and she growled when she heard Emily's name among them. Would the stupid girl ever learn? England wished for the days when Emily had been completely dependent on her. It was only too bad for Emily that England knew now she had disobeyed again.

When she got back to her estate in the colony, Rose was shocked to see that Emily was out in the field, working. She inquired about this, and the man said simply, "The wench needed to be taught a lesson."

England slapped him, going to get the silly girl out of this punishment. Men- but despite her anger, she had always gotten along better with them.

She walked elegantly down the field, and spotted where her darling girl was literally slaving in the cotton fields.

Rose was again shocked when she saw how _easily _Emily was speaking with the other slaves.

Wait, England thought suddenly. Why was she thinking that…America was a slave?

Emily. She would not call her that, since Emily was only a colony. She didn't have the title of a nation. And her darling girl was no slave. She was Rose's little sister. But a colony was property of a nation, her inner devil pointed out. And she did consider Emily to be her property. Wouldn't that mean... She would not allow herself to think that through. A-Emily was _hers. _Her territory, her sister.

"Emily," England called for her, getting hot in the sun. "Do come in, away from these…" She made an unsavory noise.

"Oh?" Emily said after Rose called a second time. "So _now _you want me back?" Furious blue eyes looked to Rose accusingly. "And what were you going to call them?"

"_Slaves,_ dear. We don't associate with them." England said this like it was obvious.

"I think you're the slave." Emily accused. "A slave to an old way of thinking!" England made a noise of disapproval.

"Now, Emily, don't speak like that." Her voice was lofty. "What do you, a girl of your age, know of politics?"

"Enough to know I could break free from you by force." She growled, and Rose glared.

"Come along, ignorant child." She was purposefully snooty, blocking out her hurt.

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The girl only grew bolder in days to come. She had joined a group called the "Sons of Liberty", despite being a girl, of perhaps 12 years physically.

When the East India Company was suffering, England's Lord North passed the Tea Act. It was just supposed to help her company, and try and soothe the colonies, since they would be able to buy tea cheaper.

But what happened in the following December made Rose's vision go _red. _How _dare _the insolent child!

Rose had been entering the harbor on her own ship, when she saw an act of civil disobedience.

They were thinly disguised as Indians. But they were also mostly men- with one exception of a girl with an actual Indian with her-likely a personification.

"Emily." She growled, elegantly leaving her ship as the girl laughed, throwing chest after chest into the harbor.

When the girl snuck home, England was waiting for her. She lit a candle, lighting the room, shadows eerily long in the dim light.

"Sir, 30 lashings to start." She pointed a finger at the young girl, whose blue eyes went wide.

"What?" Emily asked, confused. "L-Lashings?"

"That was hundreds of dollars you personally threw away." England said, getting up and showing her personal executioner the criminal. "You should know that you are lucky- you are not being hanged."

The blood had left her darling girls face. England had to turn away as she screamed and struggled, being dragged outside to receive her punishment. But this was the easiest thing she could get her boss to agree on.

When England's personal executioner finished with the stupid, foolish young girl, blood ran down her back like a river. Emily was crying, and crying hard. It was making Rose feel bad now. She had ordered this in anger, and now couldn't take it back…no. She tried though.

"Do you have anything to say to me?" Rose asked gently, and she took off her pure white gloves, and tried to put her hand on Emily's back.

"I h-HATE you!" She screamed, pushing Rose's hand of peace away, sobs made anew as blue eyes watched her fearfully, hatefully.

"Mm." England said, irritation growing on her face, pain in her heart. "Another 20 then. I always like the sound of 50 lashes." Her voice was detached at the end of it, but Emily would not notice this. This was what was good for Emily. Best to beat out disobedience now, before it got out of hand.

"Monster! Tyr-AH!" Emily was cut off as the whip hit her raw, bleeding skin.

England simply went back inside, acting haughty and uncaring. Fine. Let the girl hate her. Rose would be waiting for her when she came back to her senses, and then things could be like the 1500's again, with her darling girl letting Rose be her big sister, blue eyes loving, a gentle smile on her face.

Yes, that was right. Emily had _chosen _her to do this all for her. This right had been _given _to her. She had ought to do better to preserve that right.

An idea came to her, and though it sat uneasily in her heart, she reminded herself this was for Emily's own good. Rose went to the girl's plainly furnished bedroom, and to her wardrobe. It had one dress for formal functions, and her other everyday clothing. Her current ones were bloodstained and torn, holes from bullets in the dress, and otherwise just ruined.

How could the girl leave her if she had nothing to wear outside the house?

She brought them outside, to where Emily was recovering from the whipping, placed all her clothing onto the wet ground. She took out the matches in her pocket, and lit one. She dropped it onto the flammable fine dress- the only one Emily had ever owned. She grabbed the dress Emily had been wearing earlier, stained and bullet-ridden, and added it to the fire.

Rose saw new tears gather in Emily's eyes, but the girl didn't speak out again. When Rose asked her once more if she had anything to say, she said, "No Ma'am." Not the answer she had wanted, but she would accept it for now, get an apology later, and only then would England apologize for the punishment of her disobedience.

Her darling girl was left in the mud, her shift red and brown as England went back inside in her tight proper green gown, trying to stifle her tears.

She knew she had gone too far now. There was no going back.

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She had to go back to her nation, unable to deal with Emily's fearful looks towards her, and on her boss's orders.

She wasn't informed about the various acts that were being passed, but she assumed the colonists were being punished.

It wasn't for over a year before she was allowed to go back over the sea. Her captain was having a talk with his crew about the "crazy" colonists. "It's finally broken out in war, see?" He sneered. "Americans."

Rose paled. "What did you say, Captain?"

"I figured you would have known already, Madame." He said, respectfully. "Commodore, your colony has revolted. That's why we're being sent over. To give more soldiers to the cause- our goal is to take back land for his Majesty and your Greatness."

She fell back, and her crew caught her. "Oh no." She murmured. "She was being serious all this time."

"Who was?" Her captain asked. "Is there…well, one of you for the colony?"

"Yes." Rose murmured, faint.

"Well, the problem and solution are obvious then! You simply have to kill them!" He tried to lighten her mood, but what came to mind was back in Boston, when she had seen Emily get shot, and back at their estate, where she had had Emily whipped.

"I will _not _kill Emily. She's…my younger sister." She tried to explain. "My colony."

"But in order to make it truly _yours_, you have to kill the indigenous population." He said, and it made sense to her head, but made her heart hurt. "That's what we did with the Indians! Remember?"

She nodded, closing her eyes.

"Besides, it's just another personification. You've told me you've killed hundreds of upstarts in your nation and colonies."

Emily's bright smile and wheat-blonde hair, her sky blue eyes looking up at her trustingly.

"You should have killed her when she was younger." Another crew member spoke out. "After all, if there was no representation, then they had no ground to stand on in being a nation!"

"_Let's go home." _A sweet young voice picking her over France.

"I don't have to kill her." She said, trying to convince herself. "I just have to break her spirit. She was always too wild at heart."

But what would that leave Rose with?

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Battle after battle occurred, years passed before she saw the girl again. But she was hard to recognize. She had shaven her head, leaving nothing but peach fuzz behind. She had exchanged her…wait, England had burned those….she was now wearing MEN's clothing. It was a scandal! Who did she think she was, Prussia?!

…Apparently, since "an albino" was training the girl according to loyalist spies.

"England!" She said, powerful. "I want to be independent!"

It was raining.

Her braided hair was falling out of the fashion, and she was standing by herself. The Americans had won this battle, once again.

America was standing there, soldiers, her minutemen standing behind her.

Her rifle was pointed right at England, Rose's having been broken and tossed to the side.

"_Kill the girl." _Her king had ordered.

She took out her sword, and charged. It was at the girls neck when she stopped. She had swung it carefully, and now that it was at her throat, she realized.

Blue eyes stared at her fearfully. She was still a child. She saw her darling girl in this wild woman, and she dropped her sword, falling to her knees.

"Why, dammit? Why wasn't I good enough for you?!" She exclaimed, her voice going shrill as tears ran down her face.

"England…Rose…" Emily said, no, _America _said. "You used to be so…. big."

Her darling girl was dead, she told herself that as America walked away.

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Years passed before they saw each other again. America had invaded Canada, and England had a cruel idea to get revenge on the girl for the pain she had caused England's heart.

"I hate you." America choked on the smoke coming from her mouth, clutching at her burning left breast. "I hate you so much, you fucking cunt!"

"And I don't care." She towered above her. England was an empire on the rise. She didn't have time for people in her life who were this stupid and weak. "You are independent." She bit out, reminding her of what she had once had.

At least, she told herself she didn't care as she took Meg away, Meg not looking back at her sister.

She heard Emily's cries of pain and sorrow, and saved hers for her pillow later that night.

After diplomacy ended, Canada and America were no longer in good standing with each other. America was isolated. That had been the goal…right?

100 years passed before they spoke again.

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A/N: This is the way things are going to go, I think! Long chapter-short chapter-long chapter!

I hope you enjoyed this! I think Rose might come off a little abusive, but I wanted that to show that she wasn't as good as she said thought she was. Tell me what you think! Next chapters will include Russia, Spain, and Italy!

Also, I am more than happy to take headcanons you have and convert them into chapters in this universe!


	4. Good Evening, Goodnight

Character: Germany (Monika Beilschmidt)  
>Implied GerIta<br>"_If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you'd be doomed. You'd be ruined as God. You'd be a stone. You'd never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You'd never love anyone, ever again. You'd never dare to."_

**- Margaret Atwood, ****The Blind Assassin**

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When she heard the news, it destroyed her.

"Your sister, Julia Beilschmidt is currently listed as missing in action, presumed dead." Her secretary was reporting.

Monika's eyes widened, her short hair brushing against the back of her neck, her hand clutching the pen in her hand.

"She was last seen on the border with the Soviet Union." He continued, sounding almost bored. The pen snapped in her fist. She…that woman…had killed her beloved big sister? "It is presumed that they shot her down. Hitler's course of action is to push forward with Operation Barbarossa."

"Do it." Her voice was hollow. "Invade." She looked down. She'd have to tell her allies.

They had all known her longer! She, Monika, had only had a human lifetime with her! It hadn't even been a hundred years!

Monika had been born in the 1860's. She had been declared a nation in 1871. The year was 1942.

Her big sister…Julia…

Her image appeared in her mind; flashing through the years she had been with her- big strong arms picking her up gently, confident dual-colored eyes, long white hair. She was shorter than Monika when Monika grew up. Hurt in those eyes, being told her baby was to be called strictly by her nation-title. WWI had left her broken, madness coloring her expression, but still fighting for them all. Her sister looking ragged, singing a soft lullaby for her sickly sister, to remind her of all the time they had shared.

Germany started singing it as well. "Good evening, goodnight…. Covered with roses, adorned with thorns… Slip under the covers…tomorrow, if it is God's will, will you wake again?" She didn't know when she had started to cry. "Tomorrow, if it is God's will, will you wake again…"

But she knew her sister was dead. Never would she wake again, or laugh or cry or hold Monika.

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She had pulled herself to tell her allies the news- Germany was now the only one in charge.

"What is this all about, Monika?" Annalise was asking her, sitting in her formal uniform, her hair up in a proper bun.

"Yeah, and where's your sister?" Hungary was asking, looking ragged.

"Isn't Prussia the one who does all this?" Romana asked, looking annoyed. "You know, calling meetings n' stuff? Where's the idiot?"

"She is," Italy murmured, face filled with dread. "You're right, Chiara."

Germany took a deep breath. "My…sister." She murmured, trying to pull herself together. "Won't be coming. I'm afraid to say that…she will be unable to from now on."

Annalise's eyes went wide, and the Italy sisters looked away from Germany.

"What do you mean?" Hungary asked. Daniel seemed unable to understand, unwilling to. "Y-You're not saying…?"

"I'm afraid so, Daniel. I've…I've received news that she is missing, presumed dead." Monika closed her eyes. "On the border with the Soviet Union."

"Then we should attack." Annalise said plainly.

"I've already enacted Operation Barbarossa." She said, sighing. "But…she's gone. I never…never even got to say goodbye…" She looked so utterly alone right then.

"Germany." Annalise looked around the room before speaking. "Monika." She smiled weakly when the short-haired blonde looked up. "We look to you."

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The war to come was ugly. It was nothing to be proud of. She knew that now. But it was too late to change anything.

She had seen Hitler's "work", and was revolted; though she took care not to show it to the prisoners she had seen.

The war was over. America and Russia were standing over her, having met in Berlin.

Italy had left her. Betrayed her love- joined the other side.

She had fallen to her knees.

Sister…would you be proud of me? She asked herself, before closing her eyes and letting herself pass out while America and Russia argued about a solution.

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When she woke up, she was in an American tent. Not just any American tent, by the young woman who was sitting there, looking pensive.

"A-America?" She asked, voice weak.

"Ah." She looked over, a worried smile on her face. "Germany. It's good to see you're awake."

"Where's Russia?" She asked. "Aren't you…going to let her have me?"

"The USSR already made a deal with me." She looked sad. "It was the best deal I could get. The best one she offered that we could agree on." Germany tried to sit up. "Hey! Don't do that, stupid!" She said, shaking her head.

"Where…. where are my allies?" She muttered, tired and hallucinating from her collapsing nation.

"Germany…" America said, softly. "I'm sorry. I got you, but… Soviet's fucking double-crossed me. They have Austria, Hungary…and your sister."

Germany's eyes snapped open.

"My…sister?" She asked, broken.

"That's what I thought." America said, voice depressed. "You didn't know. She's alive. But…She's hurt."

Germany looked shocked. "But…she's alive?"

"She was in a concentration camp." America said, sighing. "I found her there. She said not to tell you, but I had to. I can't hide that from you. You deserve to know…"

She started to sob, her whole body shaking.

She couldn't have known, it was too awful, too much!

America stood over her, sighing and shaking her head.

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In the years to come, East Germany and her were never allowed to interact.

She would often look at the wall in sadness, since it separated them physically as well as mentally.

But the night it came down, there was joy beyond anything else. She was looking around desperately, calling out for her. "Julchen! Julia!"

Then, she saw it. A head full of long white hair, in embarrassing clothing, cheering on a demolisher as they dropped the outdated East German car from a crane high above in the air. Monika called her name, and the woman tensed, turning around slowly, mouthing, "Monika?"

She ran towards her as fast as her heels would let her, embracing her tightly, tears coming unsolicited.

East Germany wrapped her arms around her lovingly, accepting her back easily. "Monika…" She said, smiling. "It's been so long since you and I could actually talk!" She cried, and cried, shaking her head, and holding her tight, picking her up off the ground to hug her easier.

"I t-thought…. you should hate me!" West Germany said, sobbing.

"Stupid. You're even cuter." Julchen told her little sister, shaking her head. "I could never hate you."

Later, Monika would pretend that had never happened, embarrassed she had broken out in tears like that.

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A/N: …well, it's a new chapter! Even if its none of the people I said it was going to be!

I still want your headcanons! I love hearing them, and they can be put into the story!


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